


Words That Aren’t Required For Your Help

by transkatsuki



Category: Everyman HYBRID
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Animal Death, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Insomnia, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:40:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25070098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transkatsuki/pseuds/transkatsuki
Summary: A lot of terrible, awful things came out of them surviving.
Relationships: Evan/Vinny (Everyman HYBRID)
Kudos: 27





	Words That Aren’t Required For Your Help

**Author's Note:**

> I wouldn’t read this if you’re squeamish about implied cannibalism, vomiting, unsanitary talk, or panic attacks/flashbacks

Evan doesn’t eat meat. Vinny knows why; of course he does. He‘d love to pretend he doesn’t know why his friend is so adverse to the taste of meat, but he does. They just don’t talk about it. They have a sort of list of unspoken rules, and Evan’s newfound vegetarian lifestyle is pretty damn close to the top of Shit You Don’t Bring Up.

Other gems on this list include why Evan refuses to wear hats, why Vinny refuses to cut his hair short, and why the woods are absolutely off-limits for both of them.

(The very top of the list, for the record, is Him.) 

A lot of terrible, awful things came out of them surviving. Evan has a full fledged hospital-trip-needed-holy-shit-someone-get-an-ambulance-right-the-fuck-now panic attack if he hears a baby crying. Vinny carries a GPS with him at all times because the very idea of getting lost is enough to make his stomach churn. They sleep in the same bed every night, even if there are two beds available.

And, of course, there’s the psychological anomaly that is Rabbit.

Dissociative Identity Disorder normally develops before the age of nine; twelve at the most in some rare cases. But Evan’s nearly thirty, and here we are. Vinny supposes that he’s been to exposed to something LIKE an alter since he was a child, although He wasn’t a byproduct of repeated trauma. Rabbit is.

He comes out when Evan gets too stressed or overwhelmed to be in his own head. He’s sweet, if a bit closed off. Vinny doesn’t dare leave Evan’s side if Rabbit is fronting, too scared of what might happen if the timid thing is left alone. 

(Scared that he’s not as sweet as he lets on.)

The first time Rabbit fronted, Vinny cried. He cried as he cleaned up his friend’s piss and vomit every time the alter got spooked, cried when he cowered away from Vinny’s large hands, cried again when he requested chicken nuggets for dinner. 

Through lots of DIY therapy and long nights filled with research and anxiety, the pair has decided that Rabbit is not a terrible, awful thing. Quite the opposite, actually. 

(Regardless of this deduction, Vinny still gets the urge to cry whenever he first hears Evan call his name in that timid, childish voice.)

\- - -

They’re driving to the supermarket one day when Evan spots a dog. A Great Dane, standing tall and proud as it walks alongside its’ owner. He hums a little bit.

“How do you feel about getting a dog, Vin?” 

DOG. DOG. DOG.

‘No,’ Vinny thinks. ‘Dogs rip apart your friends little by little until they’re gone.’

“Vin?” 

‘Dogs crawl on all fours and lurk outside of windows, waiting with rabid eyes to pounce.’

“Vinny.”

‘Dogs are evil.’

“Vin, the light’s green,” Evan says quietly, touching his arm. Vinny jumps at the contact.

“... Sorry,” he mumbles, pressing on the gas and white-knuckling the steering wheel. 

“S’okay,” Evan assures him, brows drawn. “You tweakin’ out on me, bud?” 

“Ha,” Vinny chuckles weakly. “Y-Yeah, maybe.”

“Was it the dog?”

RABID EYES.

Vinny gulps.

“Maybe.” 

\- - -

“Vincent?” Rabbit asks timidly. 

“What’s up, buddy?” 

“Um... w-where is the girl?” 

Vinny turns around to look at Rabbit. There isn’t a trace of malice on his face, only confusion, anxiety, and a bit of shame. He fiddles nervously with the hem of the baggy shirt he’s wearing. Vinny knits his brow. 

“What girl?” 

“The one with the purple hat,” Rabbit mumbles. “And the long hair. I miss her.” 

Vinny’s heart sinks.

Rationally, he knows that Rabbit is bound to have some of Evan’s memories. But knowledge gave him nothing in terms of preparation for this moment. 

“There’s no girl like that,” he whispers. 

“B-But I think I-“

“There’s no girl, Rabbit!” Vinny shouts, grabbing his shoulders. “There’s no girl! She’s gone! She’s been gone for a long time!”

Rabbit’s face pales drastically, and before Vinny can register what’s happening, the smell of stomach acid is thick in the air, mixing unpleasantly with the sound of Rabbit’s choked sobs. He releases the grip on his arms in shock. Rabbit scurries away, hiding under a blanket in the corner of the room. 

“Shit,” he sighs. “Shit, shit. I’m sorry, Rabbit. I didn’t mean to yell.” He approaches the lump underneath the blanket. “Let me help you clean up,” he offers, crouching down.

“No,” Rabbit whimpers, curling in on himself more. “Please go, Vincent.” 

“It’s alright, you’re safe. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you.” Rabbit doesn’t respond. “... Do you remember her name? The girl?”

“... Damsel,” Rabbit whispers.

“Damsel.” 

“Yes.”

\- - -

“Shit, man,” Evan chuckles, watching as Vinny locks all the doors in the house for the fifth time that night. “I think we’re good.” 

“I couldn’t remember if I locked all of then,” Vinny defends himself, scratching his neck.

“Did you?” Evan inquires.

“Yeah.”

“Then we’re all set,” he says, scooting over on the bed. “Come lay down, dude. I’m tired.”

“I’m not,” he argues, although he sits down on the old, stained mattress anyways. “I’m really not tired at all. I don’t think I’ll sleep tonight.”

“You wanna take one of my pills?” Evan offers.

Evan takes sleeping pills every night. He quickly learned that he can’t fall into unconsciousness without them, and that insomnia came hand-in-hand with serious bouts of paranoid delusions.

So he takes the pills.

“No, they give me... weird dreams,” Vinny mumbles quietly. Evan sits up, brow drawn.

“Anything good?”

The woods. Tall, faceless figures. The sound of static. Flashes of the color purple.

“Not really,” he says, shrugging. “I’ll see you in the morning, Ev. You should go to sleep.”

“Okay,” Evan says softly. He rolls over to face the wall. “Goodnight, Vinny.”

“Night, Ev.”

\- - -

The door slams open.

Evan stumbles in, delirious with panic. He makes a mad dash for the sink, desperately scrubbing his hands, panting wildly.

“Woah!” Vinny exclaims. “What happened?”

“I-I was out in the garden,” Evan gasps, still scrubbing his skin raw and pink. “Th-There was-! Fuck!” He cuts himself off with a sob. “Th-There was a little, fuckin’... a little toad? A-And I... I-I... shit, Vinny!” He stares at his friend with wide eyes, full of panic and sorrow.

“Did you hurt it?” Vinny asks softly. Evan nods.

“W-With my hand rake... I didn’t mean to, I didn’t see him, but he-“ He gags a little bit, leaning over the sink and white-knuckling the counter. Vinny moves to rub his back.

“It’s okay. You’re okay,” he assures him. “Your hands are clean, Ev. There’s nothing on them.”

“... It feels like it,” Evan mumbles brokenly. “It feels like there’s blood on my hands.”

Vinny has to take the impaled toad off of the garden tool while Evan takes a scalding hot shower. He cleans up the rake and wraps the toad in paper towels before putting him in a shoe box so they can bury him in the backyard, along with the squirrel that Evan hit with their car and the dead rat Vinny found in the radiator last winter. 

If they don’t have an impromptu funeral, Evan gets really weird. They found a dead porcupine near their driveway once, and instead of burying it in their backyard, Vinny threw it deeper into the woods. 

(Not too deep.)

Evan shut down for days. He didn’t eat, didn’t sleep. Barely spoke, didn’t get out of bed unless it was to use the bathroom. Vinny eventually managed to coax him into having some coffee and toast, and after that, he gradually got back to normal. But it took a lot.

“This toad was... a good toad,” Vinny says, holding the shoebox. Evan nods, tears streaming down his face. “He was taken from this world all to soon, and we have gathered here today to honor his noble sacrifice.”

“I’m sorry,” Evan whispers, taking the box and placing it in the hole Vinny dug. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I’m really sorry.” 

Once he’s buried, Vinny pats Evan on the back, allowing him to cry into his shoulder.

“You didn’t mean to. He knew that,” he says. 

“I didn’t mean to,” Evan repeats.

“You’re a good man, Evan.”

“I’m...” he sighs heavily. “... Yeah.” 

They both sleep that night, holding one another to ground themselves. 

For comfort.

“Ev?” Vinny says, right before they drift off.

“Hm?”

“I love you,” he whispers. 

“Mhm,” Evan mumbles sleepily. “You too.”

And then there’s darkness.


End file.
